Rest
by emclaire
Summary: "The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward." The War has been over for six months, but its effects still linger. Fred fights to understand his grief, and Hermione does all she can to keep from blaming herself, but they can't get through it alone.
1. Chapter 1

It had been six months since the war, and Fred's nightmares had only increased in intensity. He maintained that he was perfectly fine, keeping a goofy grin on his face in every situation. Even when George would shake him awake, concernedly asking about his dreams, Fred would find a joke or excuse to ease his mind. The Battle of Hogwarts changed everyone, in different ways. But through it all, someone needed to keep the mood light, help his friends move on and find renewed purpose in life. In Fred's mind, he and George had to fill that role, and he would be damned if he let anyone down.

Christmas holidays were upon the Weasley household, and Molly was bustling about the Burrow at full speed in preparation. She had taken it upon herself to keep custody of Teddy— and Harry, for that matter— for the time being, until things were more settled and the Order could figure out where he could be most successful. There had been talk about sending Teddy to a distant relative of Tonks', but Harry was adamant that the two of them stuck together. After all, if Harry could prevent a situation akin to his childhood, he would be willing to change a few diapers.

Molly never minded the extra guests, especially during the Holidays. Though she was a little afraid her table couldn't withstand another extending charm, she was more than willing to try. She was thrilled when Hermione accepted her invitation to spend Christmas at the Burrow, knowing how much Ron and Harry missed seeing her every day.

The entire family gathered in the living room the evening Ginny and Hermione came home. Harry, bouncing a growing, cooing Teddy on his hip, was in an intense Quidditch discussion with Fred and George by the Christmas tree. Ron and Arthur were hanging garland and stockings, watched over by a multitasking Molly.

"Ron, your end is much too low!" she reprimanded, raising it a quarter inch with a flick of her wand.

He rolled his eyes and huffed loudly. Molly opened her mouth to scold them, but her scowl quickly turned to delight as the girls shuffled in.

"Oh, Ginny dear! And Hermione! Happy Christmas!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms out and encompassing them both in a warm embrace. The girls laughed, returning her hug in full force.

The rest of the family turned their attention to the newcomers immediately, and the entire house was filled with conversation, laughter, and reminiscence as the girls were caught up. Teddy was crawling, quite a bit earlier than Molly expected, and was already making unusual use of his powers, much to Harry's surprise. Harry, sounding a lot like a proud dad, was more than happy to tell stories of Teddy's adventures— which he entertained the family with, all through dinner.

"….. and he accio-ed a chocolate frog package from the plate, right to his hands, before I could say 'Quidditch'. We know now to never put a plate of sweets out where he can see them. He's really getting clever," Harry finished, smiling proudly. Though most of the Weasleys had heard the story before, they laughed all the same. It was almost cathartic to think about such an innocent child sometimes, one that had not yet seen the kind of destruction the Battle had caused. They were in full support of Harry's decision to be such a big part of Teddy's life, and they considered themselves fortunate to have both the boys at the Burrow.

"You've let Ron rub off on him, mate. There's no way you could have taught him to have an appetite like that," George jabbed.

"Yeah, forget the Boy Who Lived. This kid's the Boy Who Eats," Fred chuckled, elbowing Harry. The boys then broke off in their own battle of wits, leaving the rest of the group to enjoy the match.

Looking around the mirth-filled table, Molly was content. Though it had taken months, her family was finally on its way to healing. She decided that this Christmas would be the most memorable yet, and she could not contain her joy.

Arthur leaned toward his wife, noticing her eyes had begun to well with tears. "Molly, dear, are you alright?"

She chortled a little, nodding. "Arthur, we're finally home."

* * *

Fred woke with a start. His entire body ached. He was having the same nightmare he had been having for the past two weeks, and it always left his chest tight. Gasping for breath, he glanced over at George's sleeping figure. His twin was sprawled out on his stomach, blanket askew, feet sticking out over the edge of the mattress. George's long bear snores were completely uninterrupted, which caused Fred to relax slightly. He was fortunate that his silencing charms were so effective; he didn't want to worry George any more than he was already. If he or their mother knew Fred's dreams hadn't gone away….

He didn't want to go down that path, even in his thoughts.

He decided a glass of water would help clear his head. As gently as he could, he cracked their creaking bedroom door and made his way to the stairs. Just as he was about to inch down them, he noticed there was a faint glow underneath the door of Percy's old room.

Whether it was a lapse in judgement or genuine curiosity, he decided to open her door. In retrospect, he realized he should have knocked, but he was much too tired to have foreseen her reaction.

Hermione jumped out of bed, drawing her wand and pointing it accusingly at the dark figure standing in her doorway in one swift movement. The figure's hands shot up above his head, eyes wide.

"It's me! Fred!" he whisper-yelled.

She lowered her wand, exhaling slowly and closing her eyes. Flopping back down on her bed, she ran a nervous hand across her braided hair. Her left hand rubbed her face exhaustedly. "Fred," she whispered, "You can't scare me like that."

He nodded in understanding. He mumbled a "sorry" before sheepishly massaging the back of his neck with his hands.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing up at this hour? It's nearly half one."

"I-I saw your light on. Figured you'd be up for a chat?"

Fred softened her expression with a goofy half-smile, but Hermione made a mental note to figure out his true intentions later. She nodded, smoothing out the duvet on the opposite end of her bed. She motioned for him to sit; he crossed her room in three even strides and joined her.

After a few moments of silence, she leaned her head back against her headboard. "I was caught up in a new book," she started. "End of term, and all. Figured I could catch up on some light reading."

He looked down at the novel and immediately laughed.

"_The Golden Trio: Our Deeply Beloved Heroes _by Rita Skeeter," he chuckled. "Why on Earth would you read a book about yourself?"

She cracked a grin. "Maybe I enjoy fact-checking literature on a subject I know better than anyone," she countered.

He shot her a pointed look. "Well I guess they call everything _literature_ nowadays…."

Gasping, she playfully hit him on the arm. "Watch yourself. Some people take this stuff as fact! It couldn't be further from the truth, though. I would know."

His eyebrows raised. "Getting a little full of ourselves, aren't we?"

"Well, according to this rendition of my own life, I've always dreamed of becoming a herbologist, have naturally blonde hair, and, to boot, I'm in a hopeless love triangle with Draco Malfoy and Neville."

"That's rubbish. Everyone knows you're Malfoy's girl. Why even bring poor Neville into this?"

By then, they were both enjoying themselves. It had been a long time since Hermione had let herself banter like this. Between her studies, locating her parents, and helping Ron and Harry clean up the Ministry, she had hardly given herself time to breathe. She was completely exhausted, but she couldn't let herself relax. She had tried most everything: potions, relaxing charms, herbal teas, Muggle yoga. Nothing could take her out of the mindset that they were still at war, and she was beginning to think she would never be the same.

Fred took a good look around the room. It was just as he remembered Percy liked to keep it, neat and orderly. He was glad someone was finally getting some use out of the place again. It was rather lonely without someone for George and him to annoy across the hall.

He turned toward her nightstand. "I like the lighting. Very medieval."

Hermione had suspended three candles in midair, reminiscent of the ones found in the Great Hall, for reading. He could have sworn he saw a tinge of blush on her cheeks. She mumbled a "thanks". He took it as a sign to keep trying to open her up, or, at least, his tired mind saw it that way.

"Granger, I think you've spent more time in this room than Percy has in the last five years. You should do more with the place than just levitating some candles."

She rolled her eyes in response. He continued, "No, really! It's nice having a neighbor again, even if that neighbor is up reading all hours of the night."

Without thinking, she muttered, "I'm not the only one that can't get good sleep around here anymore."

Fred shifted, crossing his long legs underneath him and leaning against the wall. His demeanor changed, his smile faltering.

"You know about the silencing charms." His expression was much more somber than before, much less open.

She nodded, uneasily. She didn't have the heart to tell him she had put a similar spell on her own room, for fear of waking the whole house with her own nightmares. She broke eye contact with him, playing with her sleeve.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. It felt like an eternity to Hermione, but she could almost feel the gears in Fred's head turning. After a while, she gently put a hand on Fred's shoulder. He started for second, as if she had broken a trance. His eyes met hers again, and she found a completely different man behind them. The ever-present laughter, the mischievous glint, was all gone. This was a man that was… terrified. She had never seen Fred scared.

"I-I'm sorry, Fred. I shouldn't have said anything," she began. He shook his head, cutting her apology short.

"It's alright. If anyone would have figured it out, it would have been either my own mother or the 'brightest witch of her age'." Even his joke was hollow. He didn't smile.

Hermione moved closer to him, resting her back on the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. They were sitting hardly inches apart, but Fred felt miles away from her.

"I… I don't… really want to talk about any of it right now," he mumbled, putting his head on her shoulder.

She nodded, her heart racing slightly. "I get it. Trust me. We've got a lot in common at the moment."

He picked his head up, staring accusingly at her. "Hermione Granger and I have a lot in common at the moment?" He jeered a little, causing her to wince at his words. "Do you know what it's like to nearly die at the hands of a Death Eater? To wake up, every night, screaming because it should have been you that died instead of the parents of a child that will now grow up without a mother and father? I killed, Hermione. I killed so many people that night and I can't even remember their faces. It haunts me, every day of my life, and it's something I don't know I can live with."

His voice faltered when he saw her expression. Her face was ghostly white, tears flowing freely down her trembling cheeks. It was then that he realized all that he had said. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap. She sat there, rigid for a moment, before letting herself cry. Rubbing little circles on her back, he held her as tightly as he could.

"Hermione, I am so sorry," he began, but his voice cracked as tears welled in his own eyes. "I-I know you were there too, okay? Hell, you were probably more involved than I was. I should n-never have said any of that. I was just frustrated a-and upset with myself and I took it out on you and I-I can't t-tell you how sorry I am."

She breathed slowly, trying to calm herself down. After a few deep breaths, she whispered, "No, I get it. I know you weren't talking to me. But everything you said…. It's just that nobody's ever said it all out loud before."

His voice was soft and gravelly when he spoke again. "What do you mean?"

"We've all been to hell and back, but it seems sometimes like the world is all healing without me. Nobody's ever admitted… they've never actually told me they're just as screwed up as I am." She pulled away from Fred, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. She looked up at him, and he noticed the large bags under her eyes for the first time.

"You weren't up reading. You were up because you can't sleep without nightmares, can you?"

Hermione shrugged before admitting, "I haven't actually slept in months. I've been using sleeping draughts to keep myself going. Every time I close my eyes, I remember. For ages, I have prayed for a night where I wouldn't have to remember it all."

Fred paused for a moment, then pushed her off his lap. She gazed questioningly at him, but he gave her a small reassuring smile. "This is that night."

He leaned against her headboard, holding one arm out as an invitation. She laid beside him, her head on his chest. His arms wrapped protectively around her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

"I believe it was around October when a particularly bratty customer let all the pygmy puffs loose in the store…" He told her nearly every story he knew from the past three months, including a particularly embarrassing one of Ron in one of Ginny's robes at the Ministry. He kept her laughing, mostly because he knew she needed to relax, partly because he was slowly finding the way she laughed more and more beautiful. She finally began drifting off around three, as the candles began to dim.

When her muscles finally relaxed, he ventured a long glance down at her. He found himself grinning when he saw she fell asleep with a smile on her face. Something inside him felt completely content in that moment, looking down at her in admiration. He drifted off with his arms still wrapped around her, his mind captivated by the thought of the woman he was protecting. For once, he didn't dream.

For the first time in six months, all was well.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys! I had originally written this as a one-shot, but I was considering the possibility of maybe turning it into a full story. I'd definitely want to highlight some of the guilt that Fred is feeling for taking longer to cope than (he thinks) the rest of the group is. (I like his character arc so much that I didn't want him to die in this one.) I'd probably also add some Fremione, because it's set up so nicely here!**

**Let me know if you'd like to see me continue this, or if you'd rather just leave this one-shot as it is! As always, please read and review! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Morning Mum."

Each sibling slowly descended the stairs and ate breakfast at their own pace. Molly kept a steady stream of fresh toast and bacon on the table, filling each glass with as much pumpkin juice as each child wanted. George was the most recent addition to the table, slowly blinking and crunching a piece of bacon.

"Morning, Fred!" Mrs. Weasley chirped happily, not looking up from her pan.

"I'm George!" he protested. "Twenty years on this Earth and you still can't tel—OUCH!"

George rubbed his shoulder, nursing the bruise he was going to receive from his encounter with the handle of his mother's spatula. He muttered, "Sorry, Mum."

She shot him a look before changing the subject. "Anyone seen Fred this morning?"

George shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Hmph," Mrs. Weasley remarked. "I've been up since six. Wonder where he's been off to— George, would you go upstairs and check on him?"

George rolled his eyes, muttering as he sauntered upstairs.

"Ginny, have you seen Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

Harry and Ginny were planning on taking Teddy to Diagon Alley to finish some last-minute shopping. At the moment, Ginny was waiting impatiently by the steps for the boys to finish getting ready. She called back, "I haven't seen her all morning, Mum. Want me to go check on her?"

"Go and see if she wants breakfast— it's nearly half nine, and she's usually an early riser— but don't pester the poor girl!"

Ginny rolled her eyes but bounced up the stairs behind George anyway. As they climbed, George whispered, "This is going to be just like the time she was about to call the Ministry because she thought Fred was missing. She needs to learn to check the showers before she reports people!"

They both snickered all the way to the third-floor landing. George turned right, cracking his door to glance lazily at Fred's side of the room. It was completely empty, as he expected. He grumbled, turning to go back down the stairs, when he caught sight of Ginny. She was frozen in the doorway across from the landing, eyes wide. George strode over, peeking over her shoulder.

"Ginny, what's the ma—"

He hastily cut himself off after getting a good look. Fred and Hermione were… asleep? Fred's arms were wrapped protectively around her, and Hermione's head was pressed lightly against his chest.

"Erm, George?" Ginny whispered. "Did you know about this?"

"Would have given him a proper handshake if I had," George praised, under his breath.

Ginny's incredulous look was enough response for him to wipe off the grin that was quickly forming on his face. She shut the door as quietly as she could, spinning to face him.

"What? He hasn't slept this late in months. She's not fighting him, so obviously she's not being held against her will. It looks fine to me."

"We've been inseparable at Hogwarts this year, but apparently she's left out this little detail about her love life. I can't believe this."

George shrugged. "Then don't."

"What?"

"Don't believe it. Ginny, he slept over the blankets. She was in them. Do couples do that? No. Besides, it's not like we found a pile of clothes by the bedside."

She threw her hands in the air. "Oh, you're a detective now?"

"At your service. But really, Ginny, I wouldn't worry. Talk to them when they wake if you really want to, but don't jump to a conclusion, a conclusion that could really hurt your best friend, before you know the facts."

"Oh, fine. But if they've been secretly snogging for weeks, she will never hear the end of it."

George chuckled. "Fred would never. I raised a chivalrous old chap. Now, Hermione, I can't speak for…"

She crossed her arms, glaring holes into George's skull, and began descending the stairs. George followed suit, taking them in twos. His mother was waiting at the bottom, a half-knitted sweater floating absently behind her. "Find them?"

"Oh, we found them alright," Ginny said plainly.

George moved in front of his sister, stealing his mother's worried gaze away from his volatile sister. "Fred's decided he needs extra beauty sleep today, probably because he's finally realized he's the less attractive twin. I'll go ahead of him and open up the shop, though, if you don't mind relaying the message."

"Of course, dear. Ginny, is Hermione alright?"

"Yep," she said in passing. Mrs. Weasley was satisfied enough with the exchange to move back toward the kitchen, though she missed Ginny's glaring silent warning at George, as if to say, _You'd better be right_.

* * *

Fred's eyes blinked open slowly, sighing as he inhaled the lingering smell of bacon from breakfast. As he turned to look out the window, he was met with an unfamiliar view. Instead of their short, grassy Quidditch pitch in the side yard, he caught a glimpse of what seemed like endless mossy forest. He jumped, realizing where he was.

The jolt caused Hermione to bolt straight up, breathing heavily. Fred sheepishly unhooked his arms from around her, and she met his stare with bleary, glazed eyes.

"Wh… What?" she stammered.

"We, uh, must've both fallen asleep last night…" Fred trailed off, his voice gravelly and dark. It took her a moment to process, but she eventually nodded, smiling softly.

"I guess we did. Did you have any nightmares?"

Fred paused for a moment. "Well, no, actually. Did you?"

She shook her head. Suddenly, without warning, he pulled her in for a deep embrace. She froze initially, but she found herself readily leaning into him. He smelled warm, like cinnamon and ash.

"Thank you," he mumbled into her hair. However, he pulled apart and moved to the door before she had the chance to blink. "But I think I'm late for work. Have a good day, love!"

She flopped back onto her bed, rolling into the thin indent he left behind. Smiling from ear to her, she found she couldn't help but let herself get a little lost in the memory of the night before. He kept her laughing and relaxed, something even Ginny had fallen short of since the War. She felt _safe_ with him, and she almost wouldn't mind if their paths converged in that way again soon.

Something in her chest rose when she thought about him, and she chuckled to herself at the absurdity of it. After all, this was Fred she was talking about, the brother of two of her closest friends. He was a prankster with a big heart, and that was it. Why pine over a single night, even if it was something they clearly both needed…

Pining? She shuddered. Who was she turning into, Lavender?

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I decided to keep this story going. They've been discovered, by a protective best friend and a twin… Keep sticking with it to find out how each one reacts…**

**Please review and let me know what you think so far!**


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